Chuck Bartowski, Super Spy
by Notorious JMG
Summary: Chuck's new abilities have made him the darling of the intelligence community - but no man is infallible. Charah, shocking betrayal, and crushed hopes are sprinkled throughout this story that draws its source material from a very unlikely place.
1. Prologue

_**Author's note: **__This is a project that's been kicking around in my mind for a few weeks now. I wanted to get the prologue written so I could see if it might play out well, and I think it will. This story is based on a piece of source material that has absolutely nothing to do with Chuck, and I'm sure that at least a few of you can probably figure out what that is. If you do, please keep the title out of the reviews – I'd like to keep that under wraps as long as I possibly can. You can, however, feel free to message me about your thoughts that specifically regard the source material._

_In addition, though I'm posting the prologue tonight, I intend to at the very least finish _In the Valley of the Shadow _before I give my full attention to this, and I will likely try to finish _Chuck vs. the Con _as well._

* * *

**CLASSIFIED *** TOP SECRET *** CLASSIFIED**

**Date: **26 March 2010

**From: **Lt. Colonel John Casey, United States Marine Corps (NSA)

**To: **Maj. General Diane Beckman, United States Air Force (NSA)

**Re: **Human Intersect Project

Following a long period of evaluation and consideration, I believe that I have come to a fairly clear conclusion on the tenuous future of the Human Intersect Project. Unfortunately, given current circumstances, the future does not look promising. Once the myth that has been built up around Charles I. Bartowski is stripped away, you can easily see that things are not going well.

The problem is, Mr. Bartowski has begun to believe the myths surrounding him, especially that he is truly not just a spy, but a so-called "Super Spy". I am afraid that if he continues to allow himself to matter more than the project itself, all of the gains and advances we have made will be for naught.

I have attempted to discuss this with Mr. Bartowski, reminding him that I have been part of his team since the very beginning, and that he should be able to trust me. However, again, the followers he has gained within the CIA and NSA believe that he is the savior of the intelligence community, which may cause very serious repercussions for Mr. Bartowski when they realize the truth about this project.

Furthermore, it seems that this project is far more complicated now than it was when it began. Though at the time I believed it to be complex beyond necessity, I realize now that when Mr. Bartowski was merely flashing and providing intelligence, things were quite simpler. I wish to be understood correctly – I think he is a priceless intelligence commodity. However, it seems that he was more useful to this project when his day job was selling electronics, rather than attempting to engage in spycraft.

The most disconcerting aspect of this entire project, however, is the Pentagon's increased pressure to absorb all of the Human Intersect Project into Project Omaha. Though I have managed to keep Mr. Bartowski on the straight and narrow so far, I foresee a time in the near future when the strength of his support within the intelligence community will outweigh my opinions, and thus throw him directly into the path of the Pentagon.

I will endeavor to continue to remind Mr. Bartowski that it is in his best interests to keep a low profile, especially if he wishes to retain his freedom; however, I fear that soon even my counsel will not be effective.

Respectfully submitted,

Lt. Col. John M. Casey, USMC (NSA)


	2. Inconsistency and Small Excuses

_**Chuck Bartowski, Super Spy**_

**Chapter 1: "Inconsistency and Small Excuses"**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Morgan Grimes – Joshua Gomez  
Lester Patel – Vik Sahay  
Jeff Barnes – Scott Krinsky  
Anna Wu – Julia Ling  
Emmett Milbarge – Tony Hale  
Big Mike Tucker – Mark Christopher Lawrence  
Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski  
John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Devon Woodcomb – Ryan McPartlin

* * *

**March 27****th****, 2010  
Burbank, California**

Chuck Bartowski was pretty sure that his walk across the parking lot from the Orange Orange to the Buy More got a little bit slower every day. Every day that he had to enter that godforsaken electronics store, it seemed like a bit of him died.

He remembered when it had been fun. He remembered the days when he and Morgan could goof off, playing with the new gaming systems, having Airsoft battles after hours, and generally making Harry Tang's life hell. Big Mike had let them get away with everything, Chuck because he was the best employee at the store, and Morgan because he was basically Chuck's plus-one in life.

Now, though? Now, it was like medieval torture. Now, it was like he had to take a step down in life every morning, all to maintain this stupid cover. As if he needed a cover. Chuck Bartowski had become the United States' most priceless intelligence asset – he had every intelligence secret in his head, he could go on the defensive OR the offensive using any number of fighting styles that would make a UFC fighter look like a playground bully, AND he had finally gotten the girl.

If there was one bright spot in his life, it was that. Sarah Walker had finally told the government that she was tired of compromising her personal feelings for a protocol that was clearly unnecessary. Her argument – though Chuck wasn't supposed to know it – had been that if Chuck needed protection from anybody, it was from himself, and she would be in a far better position to protect him in that way if the CIA would just let her indulge herself.

The funny thing was, the first time Chuck had ended up in bed with Sarah – for real, and not for cover – he had flashed on the entire Kama Sutra, and then ended up going out of his way to block every thought of it he had, because he wanted his first time with Sarah to be HIM, not the damn Intersect.

Ah yes, the damn Intersect. He had to put up with that thing that he had downloaded into his head out of some misguided sense of loyalty and patriotism. Chuck had thought that that was how he could honor Bryce's memory, how he could best be the Real American Hero, and now, here he was, nearly a year later, loathing the damn thing. And because of the top secret nature of the Intersect, here he was, that priceless intelligence asset, still working for $12.50 an hour at the Buy More.

And in reality, who knew how long that would last? Rumor had it that Moses Finkelstein, founder and CEO of Buy More Electronics and Records, Inc. (NYSE: BME), was in serious financial trouble and was VERY seriously considering an offer to sell.

Unfortunately, the suitor was a certain company directly from the seventh circle of hell known to the American public as Wal-Mart Stores, Inc. Chances were that if they purchased Buy More, they would absorb the company's distribution rights and system, and close the chain entirely. With Amazon trying to gut Wal-Mart, the idea of internal competition for the electronics and music sector couldn't be appealing.

Much as Chuck would personally have loved to see the yellow and green sign above the northern-most big box at Empire Plaza go dark for good, the NSA was having a collective shit-fit over the idea of Chuck not having a job, and General Beckman had decided to take it out on Chuck as if it was his own fault. Chuck had jokingly replied that maybe the federal government should bail out Buy More.

That had gotten him a lecture, but what else was new?

With a start, Chuck realized that in the midst of his daydream, he had managed to walk right through the front door of the Buy More, and was now on a collision course with Morgan Grimes. "Crap," Chuck muttered. Morgan was his best and oldest friend, but lately, he had been annoying as hell, constantly pestering Chuck with questions about the future of Buy More.

"Chuck!" Morgan shouted. "Hey, what's up, dude?"

"Not much," Chuck replied. "Sure wish I wasn't."

"I hear you, my brother from another mother," Morgan said, as Chuck winced. "So, have you heard anymore about what's gonna happen with the company."

Chuck sighed. "No, Morgan, I haven't."

That's when the rest of Chuck's "stable of hos" attacked. "Come on, Chuck!" came Lester's voice from behind him, almost causing Chuck to jump through the ceiling. "You always know everything!"

"That's right, Chuck," came a silkily seductive voice from his right. Chuck turned to see Anna Wu standing there, her top cut low enough to expose cleavage to her navel.

"For the love of God," Chuck muttered, turning away. "Anna, can you put those away, please? The rest of you – I don't know. It's not like I'm on first name speaking terms with Moses Finkelstein or anyth-"

"That's Moses Finkelstein, founder and CEO of Buy More, Inc., to you, Mr. Bartowski!" came the grating voice of Emmett Milbarge, manager of Buy More store #104 (Burbank), and dictator (in his own mind) of the "empire" of BuyMoria. He seemed to have a vendetta against Chuck, which was perfectly understandable, given that eleven months before, he had gotten, verbatim, "take this job and shove it," from Chuck's mouth. However, he couldn't deny that Chuck was pretty much the glue that held the store together, so when Chuck came back to grudgingly beg for his job, Emmett happily (but not TOO happily) gave it back to him.

"Yes, I know, Emmett," Chuck sighed. "I'm just trying to tell these guys that I have no idea what's going on with the company. I'm not a soothsayer."

Emmett nodded, a smirk on his face. "That's right, you rabble. Chuck doesn't actually KNOW anything about the company."

Chuck snorted a sarcastic laugh. "Wow, Emmett, thanks for the support."

But the obnoxious store manager was already headed away from Chuck, leaving him to fend off his motley pack of disciples.

Well, motley pack plus one former manager. "Seriously, Bartowski, what do you know about the company?" Big Mike asked, having somehow sidled up to Chuck unnoticed.

Chuck turned to Big Mike, a look of stunned astonishment on his face – and saw Morgan, Lester, Jeff, and Anna all standing behind Big Mike, expectant looks on their faces. "You guys have gotta be kidding me," Chuck muttered. "Look, I don't know anything, but even if I did, why, oh why, would you want to know? What difference will it make to you if you know whether or not Buy More's going to be open in at the end of the summer?"

He laughed and looked at the floor. "Can't any of you, just once, try to think about today instead of worrying about the future? Live for today! Worrying about tomorrow isn't going to add one minute to your life."

Leaving the group of employees standing in a certain amount of shock, Chuck turned away from them and walked toward the Nerd Herd desk. "Although, it might shorten mine," he muttered under his breath.

* * *

Four hours later, Chuck was sitting behind the Nerd Herd desk, doing what passed for a normal day anymore – trying to get through his shift. It didn't matter what technical problems he had to deal with these days – nothing seemed to make the clock move faster toward 4:30 PM.

Although, SHE helped.

At 12:05 PM, right on schedule, Sarah Walker breezed through the door of the Buy More, making a beeline for the Nerd Herd desk. She was always a breath of fresh air not just for Chuck, but for the entire store – seeing her, even if only for a few minutes, always seemed to put a smile on the faces of the store staff. In fact, productivity was always at its highest in the hour between noon and 1:00 PM, which was pretty much the only reason Emmett put up with her visiting Chuck for lunch.

"Hey, handsome," she said teasingly as she approached Chuck. "How's your day going?"

"Well," Chuck replied, "yesterday was shitty, today is shitty, and tomorrow will probably be… well, same shit, different day."

Sarah smiled and shook her head. "Chuck, I know you hate working here, but you just have to do what Casey and I do, and make the best of it."

Chuck arched an eyebrow, a look of mock insult crossing his face. "My goodness, did you just suggest that Casey is dealing with this better than I?"

Sarah sighed. "Not just suggesting, Chuck. He is. You… I mean, I've noticed a real change in you. You just seem to be utterly displeased with your life."

"Well, what do you expect, Sarah?" Chuck shot back, keeping his voice low. "I could be out there, saving the world for REAL, but here I am, stuck in a dead end job, only doing stuff from the basement of a damn yogurt shop, and that only when the government demands my services! My life is turning into a black hole!"

Sarah's smile faded. "With one bright spot, right?"

A hint of a smile appeared on Chuck's face. "Yes, with one very bright spot." Then the smile disappeared again. "But I'm afraid that the black hole will end up sucking that bright spot in…"

Sarah put a hand on Chuck's shoulder. "I promise you, that won't happen." She squeezed gently – and frowned. "Chuck, you are really tense. What's wrong?"

Chuck sighed. "I spent the morning trying to convince the rabble here that I don't have a clue about the future of Buy More." He grimaced. "They definitely don't believe me."

Sarah cocked her head to the side. "Do you know something, Chuck?"

He shook his head. "I really don't. Everything I DO know, and I don't have the first idea of what's going to happen to this company. And the more I think about it, the more everybody pesters me, the more tense I get. I feel like my back is a gigantic knot."

Sarah smiled sympathetically. "Chuck…"

"Yes?"

"Was this just a ruse to get me to give you a shoulder massage?"

For the first time that day, a twinkle of a real smile appeared on Chuck's face. "Mayyyybe…"

"You are incorrigible," Sarah teased him. "Come on, we'll go to the home theatre room."

Chuck obligingly followed Sarah across the floor of the electronics store, with every sales associate they passed wishing he could be Chuck, even for just one afternoon. After the door closed behind them, John Casey took up station outside the door to the display room. Nobody would enter without getting through him.

And it appeared Emmett Milbarge thought he would do exactly that. "Alright, Casey, out of the way," the manager ordered the NSA agent as he approached. "I'm tired of Bartowski and yogurt girl using the home theatre room for their afternoon delight. I'm throwing them out."

Casey's eyes narrowed. He fixed his gaze on Emmett, and gave him grunt number forty-three – _take one step closer and you'll be dangling by your teeth from the ceiling_. "They're not in there getting their freak on, Milbarge," Casey growled. "Trust me, if they were, I'd go in and shoot them myself."

* * *

As Chuck's lunch break came to a close, he and Sarah emerged from the home theatre room. Chuck looked relaxed and happy, and gave Sarah a kiss as he bid her farewell.

"Hi, Devon!" Sarah remarked chirpily as she headed out the door of the Buy More, passing Chuck's brother-in-law, going the other way.

"Sarah," Devon replied civilly, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he entered the store.

When he reached Chuck, the slightly younger man was examining a display of iPod accessories. "Chuckster, need to talk to you for a minute," Devon said, taking his brother-in-law by the upper arm and pulling him away from prying ears.

"What's up, Devon?" Chuck asked, the smile still on his face from his lunchtime massage.

Devon frowned. He had struggled with how to approach this topic for a while, but had not been able to come up with a good way to do it. Nonetheless – it had to be done. "Dude. You and Sarah – you think that's gonna last?"

The smile began to fade from Chuck's face. "Uh, I don't see why not," he replied. "We're in love with each other – and she makes me happy. I thought –"

"Yeah, yeah, awesome," Devon replied, his words empty and meaningless. "Here's the thing, bro. She's a spy, an assassin. She's probably killed more people than she's had friends."

Chuck's face took on a look of disbelief as Devon spoke. "And look – it's not that I object to her line of work – we need people like her. It's just that, you know, what she does, it doesn't exactly fit in with that whole world view you've always espoused, of being the big damn hero and doing good and… well, you know what I'm saying."

"Yeah, I think I do," Chuck replied in shock. "I do, and I can't believe you're saying it." Fighting to keep his voice under control, Chuck continued, "Who the hell do you think you are, Devon? Who are you to criticize her? Sure, she's in pretty much the exact opposite line of work from you, but that doesn't make you BETTER than her."

Chuck stopped for a moment, and raised an eyebrow. "In fact, Devon, how many people have died because your work was either not right, or because you just couldn't save them?"

Devon's eyes went wide. "What?! Bro, you better not be asking that question serio-"

"I damn well AM asking that question seriously," Chuck spat. "If people have died on YOUR watch, on YOUR operating table, then who the HELL are you to criticize Sarah for –"

Realizing his voice had gotten rather loud, Chuck stopped and took a deep breath. "I think you get my meaning," he whispered venomously.

Without waiting for a response from Devon, Chuck stormed toward the exit to the store. "Chuck!" Morgan called to him, but Chuck didn't respond. Morgan started running, and cut Chuck off right before he walked out the door.

"Chuck!" Morgan said. "Where are you going?"

"What does it matter?" Chuck replied. "Who the hell cares?" He turned around and faced the employees gathered behind him – the same ones who had accosted him upon his arrival at work that morning. "In fact, do any of you really give a rat's ass if I'm here or not?"

Stunned silence greeted Chuck's question. "That's what I thought," he grumbled, then wheeled and walked toward the door.

It was a moment before Morgan said anything. "You're wrong, Chuck," he whispered. "I care."

But Chuck was already gone.


	3. Decision Omaha

_**Chuck Bartowski, Super Spy**_

**Chapter 2: "Decision: Omaha"**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
General Leland Stanfield – Dale Dye  
Alex Forrest – Tricia Helfer  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Keith Olbermann – Himself  
Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski  
John Casey – Adam Baldwin

* * *

**March 27****th****, 2010  
The Pentagon, Arlington, Virginia**

General Leland Stanfield, former Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force, former Supreme Commander of NATO, did not have as prestigious a job these days as he did once upon a time – or so it seemed. These days, he was in charge of a somewhat more secret program – but its importance far outweighed anything he had ever done while with NATO.

Project Omaha had been a joint Air Force-Army project since the mid 1990s, but had never produced any results. So it had really been a burr under General Stanfield's saddle when the CIA and the NSA, working together, not only successfully developed their precious Intersect, but then managed to actually put it into a human brain.

"Charles Irving Bartowski," Stanfield muttered. "This has gone on long enough. I am done sitting on the fence. Forrest – how do we do this?"

Former CIA Agent Alex Forrest looked up at her boss in surprise. "Uh, General Stanfield, we can't go through normal channels," she replied. "We tried that."

Coming around the end of the conference table toward Stanfield, Forrest tried to temporize. "Honestly, General, I don't think we should concentrate on him so much. Surely there's only so much the Intersect can do within a human brain. Eventually, those idiots over at Langley and Fort Meade will realize that and dump him for something bigger and better. Then, he'll be free to go off and hump Agent Walker to her heart's content –" Forrest shook her head and rolled her eyes in disgust "- and neither you nor I will ever have to try to pronounce his name again."

General Stanfield chuckled and shook his head. "No, Forrest, you don't understand Bartowski's importance," he replied. "The CIA and the NSA almost let him go a year ago. His old goat of a father managed to get the original Intersect out of his head, and they were just going to let him walk, scot free." He stood and looked out the window. "Can you imagine, if some terrorist organization had gotten hold of him? He might not have had the Intersect in his head anymore, but I've seen his aptitude reports – he has an eidetic memory. He sees it, he remembers it."

Stanfield turned back toward Forrest. "Just think of it. A terrorist group gets hold of him, tortures him, exploits his feelings for Agent Walker, or his love for his sister – he spills what he remembers, and BOOM –"

He growled. "This part of the Pentagon is under a flaming pool of jet fuel again."

"Whoa, sir," Forrest protested. "Bartowski's just a simple IT guy from Los Angeles. There's no way he'd be responsible for another 9/11."

"Ah, but there's the difference!" Stanfield exclaimed, wagging a finger at Forrest. "When he put that second Intersect in his head, he became much more, and it disturbs me." He narrowed his eyes. "What about the President? What about Secretary Gates? What if they see this Bartowski become the Intelligence Directorate's new golden boy? What do you think happens to us?"

He shook his head. "No, no way. This whole part of the Pentagon would become a ghost town. The administration wouldn't just stand around and applaud the CIA, while we slink off to continue Omaha in a bunker somewhere."

Stanfield slumped back down in the chair behind his desk. "And what about the military?" he asked Forrest, his question more rhetorical than anything. "What happens when our people see that we've lost? Don't you think that our people deserve to see some sort of results come out of Project Omaha?"

"Of course I do," Forrest answered. "But the CIA and the NSA – they have what they want. Well, at least, they think they have what they want. You don't take a toy away from a three year old when he's happy, so why take away the CIA's little crazy time?"

"Put yourself in my place, Forrest, just for a moment," Stanfield replied. "It's not as though I can just stand aside and let this happen. I've been the commandant of NATO. I am the representation of military intelligence as we know it in the twenty-first century. And military intelligence could very well cease to be. If we let the civilians take total control of intelligence and operations –"

"Sir, General Beckman will never let that hap-"

"DIANE BECKMAN IS A SPINELESS PUPPET!" Stanfield roared at Forrest, sending the former CIA agent cowering to the other end of the table. "She calls herself Air Force, but she is a pathetic echo of a flag officer. She answers to the civilians, and if we're going to survive this, we are going to have to BEAT HER INTO SUBMISSION!"

Forrest took a deep breath, and looked down at the table before which she stood. "Alright, sir," she said, "then tell the National Security Council that. But if you do, you're going to have to tell them the same way that you just told me. They don't understand subtlety. If you're going to get the council on your side, and more importantly, if you're going to get General Jones and the President on your side, then you're going to have to scare the shit out of them, or they will never see the truth."

Stanfield was quiet for a long moment. He looked down at the table, then stood and strode back to the window. Staring out across Highway 27 toward Arlington Cemetery, he contemplated his choices. He could just let Bartowski go, and risk his capture and a major disaster…

Or he could pull Bartowski into Project Omaha, whether he wanted to be part of it or not.

"Alright, Forrest. That's how we'll do it."

Forrest nodded. "Yes, sir," she replied. "I'll get the ball rolling."

* * *

**Burbank, California**

Chuck Bartowski let himself into Ellie's – no, HIS! – apartment, threw his messenger bag on the table, and collapsed on the couch. It was still weird to come home and not get yelled at for throwing the bag on the table, but Ellie didn't live here anymore. She still had a key, but she hadn't been by in a few weeks.

Chuck picked up the remote and turned on the TV. It was 5:30 – too early for anything good to be on, so he just started flipping through the channels. He stopped when he heard the words "Buy More".

"_In our number three story, Buy More CEO Moses Finkelstein this afternoon released a statement acknowledging that Buy More Electronics and Records, Inc., only has approximately four weeks of operating capital remaining,_" Keith Olbermann grimly reported on _Countdown_. "_He, along with representatives from the board of directors, appeared before a closed session of the House Committee on Commerce this afternoon, pleading for a bailout similar to those granted to AIG and Chrysler, among others, in late 2008. His justification for the bailout is that he will be forced to sell to Wal-Mart otherwise, and he claims that would be disastrous for the economy._"

Olbermann looked up at the camera. "_Either way, the news was enough for the stock market to plummet to its lowest point since June of 2009, with the Dow Jones closing at 8249.3, dropping nearly six hundred points from the closing bell yesterday._"

"Fucking lovely," Chuck muttered, turning off the TV. Well. THAT should make his encounter with the crazy people tomorrow at work a little more interesting.

Then a thought occurred to him. "I wonder if there'll be protesting stockholders outside the store," he mused. "That could be amusing."

Tossing the remote control on the couch, Chuck rose and headed for the bathroom, shedding clothes as he went. Once inside, he turned the shower on as hot as he could stand it, and then stepped in, letting the near-scalding water pour over his body in the futile hope that it would help relieve some of the tension built up in his shoulders and back. It was just starting to work, when…

"Mmmm… pomodoro sauce," he mumbled. "That smells good."

Chuck closed his eyes, savoring the scent for a moment –

"WAIT A SECOND," he gasped, his eyes flying open. "What the hell?!"

Shutting off the water, he reached out and grabbed a towel. Wrapping it around his waist, he tried to head for the kitchen as stealthily as he could, looking for, but not finding, a suitable weapon along the way.

_I guess I'll just have to use the towel_, he grumbled mentally. _I'm sure the Intersect will find some use for it – and I'll be naked –_

"Oh, it's you!" Chuck exclaimed as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, to find Sarah standing in front of the stove.

"Did you expect to find somebody else in your kitchen cooking Italian?" Sarah asked, not looking up from stirring the pot. "Can you hand me that container of basil, and then – oh, hel-LO!"

Sarah had looked up at Chuck, to discover him standing a few feet from her, half naked and dripping wet. "Wow," she said appreciatively. "I guess I just don't get the full picture when most of the lights are off."

Chuck turned beet red and crossed his arms over his chest. "You KNOW I get embarrassed when we have sex with the lights on," he mumbled. "I don't know why, it just – oh, crap!"

He grabbed for the slipping towel, but it fell to the floor, leaving him standing completely naked in his kitchen. Sarah bit her lip to keep from laughing, but also felt her temperature rising precipitously. "Um… well…"

Fifteen minutes later, they were both lying in Chuck's bed – with ONE light on, as a concession to Sarah's teasing – and the pomodoro sauce getting cold on the now turned-off stove. Nonetheless, both seemed to be quite satisfied, although the shower hadn't worked out all of Chuck's tension – and Sarah could feel it.

"What's wrong, Chuck?" Sarah asked softly, lazily tracing circles on his arm with her index finger.

"Everything," he sighed. "What we talked about earlier – with the guys at work – it's just gonna get worse."

"I heard," Sarah said. "You think the board will sell to Wal-Mart?"

"I think that'll happen when they pry Buy More from Moses Finkelstein's cold, dead hands," Chuck muttered. "He's going to do his damnedest to get a bailout from the government."

"And you don't think that'll happen?"

"Are you kidding, Sarah?" Chuck asked, incredulous. "Buy More isn't too big to fail. Buy More's failure won't bring the country to its knees. Buy More as we know it is done."

Sarah brushed a curl of hair off of Chuck's forehead. "But is that really such a bad thing, Chuck? You've been trying for the last three years to get away from the Buy More, so here's your chance – and not even the NSA can prevent it if the company folds."

"I know, I know," Chuck assented. "But that's the thing – I've been working for Buy More, on and off, ever since I was in high school, and I guess there's just some sort of bizarre loyalty that I've developed – I just don't want to see it fail."

Sarah laughed quietly. "It doesn't surprise me in the least to hear that," she said. "You're loyal to a fault sometimes… but I like it."

Propping herself up on an elbow, she looked Chuck in the eyes. "But here's the thing," she said to him. "No amount of worrying that you do about it will change it. I know the idea that Buy More might collapse upsets you, but you can't let the things that upset you run your life. Just let it go, and try not to think about it."

"I know," Chuck said softly. "And I told the guys basically the same thing earlier today."

"Okay, then, Chuck," Sarah replied, "then take your own advice. And I can give you something right now to take your mind off it."

Chuck groaned. "I don't know, Sarah, it's only been like three minutes –"

"Not that, you gutter-brain," Sarah laughed, smacking his shoulder. "I meant we have Italian food in the kitchen to reheat."

* * *

By the time they got back to the kitchen, the pomodoro sauce was already being reheated. "Walker, I can't believe you're wasting good Italian food on this heathen," John Casey grumbled as he stirred the bubbling tomato sauce.

"Don't worry, John, there's enough for you too, I'm sure," Chuck shot back sarcastically. "By the way, yes, please, come into my apartment, and join us for dinner."

"Chuck…" Sarah's voice carried a warning tone.

Chuck sighed. "Sorry, Casey. You're more than welcome here. What's up?"

Casey turned away from the stove briefly. "You've been wanting some time off work, right?"

"Yeah," Chuck replied. "Am I getting some?"

"Indeed, we all are," Casey stated. "Beckman wants us in DC tomorrow afternoon."


	4. For God and Country

_**Chuck Bartowski, Super Spy**_

**Chapter 3: For God and Country**

**CAST (in order of appearance):  
**General Diane Beckman – Bonita Fredericy  
Alex Forrest – Tricia Helfer  
General Leland Stanfield – Dale Dye  
Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski  
Admiral Forrest Saxon – Gabriel Byrne  
Lt. Colonel John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Congressman Silvestre Reyes (D-TX-16) – Edward James Olmos

* * *

**March 28th, 2010  
The Pentagon, Arlington, Virginia**

General Diane Beckman did not travel to the Pentagon very often. She greatly preferred the safety and security of her complex at Fort Meade. The pencil-pushers and muckety-mucks at the Pentagon had been stuck in their offices and isolated from the real world for far too long.

But this particular trip was not by choice. No, she had been summoned, and that grated against her. She was a two-star general, for heaven's sake. She was the Interim Director of the National Security Agency (although she had been in the position for so long that the NSA might as well have just dropped the "Interim" part). For a three-star general – an ARMY general, no less – to just up and say that she needed to take time out of her day and come to the Pentagon bugged the hell out of her.

What could she do, though? Orders were orders.

Nonetheless, General Beckman had a distinct sense of unease about this summons. She had looked into General Leland Stanfield, and it turned out that he was the director for the US Army's Project Omaha.

In other words, the project that had eventually evolved into the Intersect.

As she watched the world's largest office building grow in her windshield, General Beckman grew even more nervous. She already had a sense that this was not going to go well. And the worst part was that Bartowski was already going to be in Washington anyway. He had been scheduled to testify before two House committees – a public hearing regarding the impending collapse of Buy More Electronics and Records, Inc. (NYSE: BME), and a very, very secret hearing regarding the Intersect and the total cock-up that had been the NSA and CIA's joint dealings with Fulcrum.

General Beckman tried to relax as her car was waved through the gate into the Pentagon, but it was no use – and quite frankly, the memo she had gotten from John Casey two days prior was not helping matters. Bartowski was growing restless. He was sick of sitting around Burbank, working for a failing electronics store and not having the chance to do anything else with his life, save for developing his relationship with Agent Walker.

As much as that displeased General Beckman, she supposed, from a pragmatic point of view, that she could hardly begrudge him. It was the only bright spot in Bartowski's life, and truthfully, she didn't even want to consider how pathetic he would be if he DIDN'T have that.

The car now left behind, Beckman strode through the halls of the Pentagon. They seemed to encroach on her personal space on every side. Poorly lit, poorly painted, it was enough to rattle even the coolest nerved of agents.

Beckman finally reached the Army wing of the Pentagon. "General Beckman," she heard a familiar voice say. Looking down the hall, Beckman saw an agent who used to be one of her own.

"Agent Forrest," she said with some disdain. This was the agent who had screwed up Agent Walker's 49-B. This was the agent who had bailed first on the CIA, then on the NSA, before ending up as some sort of... civilian bag-man for the US Army. It disgusted General Beckman.

At least her agents killed honestly.

"If you'd follow me, General," Agent Forrest said, indicating a door to General Beckman's right. General Beckman nodded, Agent Forrest pressed her thumb against an identification pad, and the door swung open.

"General Stanfield and a panel are waiting for you, General Beckman," Agent Forrest informed her. "They wish to discuss the Intersect project with you."

"Well, there's a big surprise," Beckman muttered under her breath.

Forrest led General Beckman into a conference room. Sure enough, military brass lined both sides of a long table, General Stanfield seated at the end. "Ah, General Beckman," he said, standing and smiling rather unpleasantly. "Now that you're here, I believe we can get started."

Beckman nodded in acknowledgment, and took her seat – the other end of the table from Stanfield, denoting what she was sure was supposed to be some sort of jab at her standing in her eyes. "Ladies and gentlemen," Stanfield began, "I believe you're all aware why we're here. We've got... something of a problem."

He nodded to Agent Forrest. She pressed a button on a remote control, and a video snapped on on a TV behind General Beckman. Sighing, she turned around to watch -

"_I heard Agent Carmichael took out Fulcrum singlehandedly_," an analyst was saying.

And another: "_Charles Carmichael is going to be the salvation of the intelligence community, I have no doubt_." That was the DDI(R&D) of the Central Intelligence Agency.

And perhaps the most damning. "_I have the utmost confidence in Chuck Bartowski._"

"Pause it," General Stanfield barked, and Agent Forrest did so, freezing the television on an image of Agent Sarah Walker.

Stanfield began to pace the length of the table. "I want you all to consider for a moment the enormous stock that our intelligence community has placed in Charles Bartowski, a.k.a. Charles Carmichael, a.k.a. the Intersect," he said grimly. "This man, who not three years ago, was nothing more than a rank amateur, has had a successful mission or two – through pure luck, I assure you – and all of a sudden, the entirety of the CIA and the NSA wants to have his babies."

Stanfield laughed mirthlessly. "Especially the lovely Agent Walker."

"General Stanfield," Beckman spoke up, "I really do think you're over-simplifying the matter. Chuck Bartowski has been one of our most effective agents -"

"BECAUSE HE HAS THE SUPPORT OF TWO INCREDIBLY VALUABLE ASSETS," Stanfield barked, whirling on her. "Two assets who could be well used elsewhere, one of whom has been compromised beyond BELIEF. Without them, he would be nothing but a danger to himself and everybody around him. I believe it is time to ABORT this project."

Beckman's jaw dropped. "Wha – what are you talking about?" she asked in disbelief. "Abort the project?"

"It's an ideal time, Diane," came the voice of the J2 for the US Navy, a two-star admiral by the name of Forrest Saxon. "Make it part of Project Omaha – bring it where it belongs, under the Pentagon. He'll be here in Washington in just a couple of hours, won't he? We bring him in then, talk to him -"

"No," Stanfield interrupted. "We can't just bring him in and talk to him. We have to determine something more permanent."

"Yes, sir," Admiral Saxon demurred. "So, what then do we do about Chuck Bartowski? Regardless of whether he's the Intersect or just a harmless civilian -"

"He's not a harmless civilian!" Stanfield barked. "And quite frankly, the first thing we should do is cancel this hearing before the House Commerce Committee. The last thing we need is for Bartowski to go on C-Span and charm the pants off of the men and women who also sit on the Intelligence Committee."

Stanfield sighed, trying to calm himself. "That's the thing I will say for Bartowski. He is a charismatic son of a bitch."

"Gentlemen, I truly think this is unnecessary," General Beckman interjected. "I know Bartowski can't be left to his own devices, but I am certain I can rein in the intelligence community and bring him back down where he belongs."

Admiral Saxon narrowed his eyes and looked at Beckman. "How, Diane?" he asked. "He's already become something of a star. How do you just make that go away?"

"Therein lies the problem," Stanfield mused. "You can't. He becomes a bigger and bigger star, and then he becomes a problem. He catches Secretary Gates' attention, and he wonders what the hell we're doing here. I truly see the end of Project Omaha, and all because of this one man."

General Beckman had had enough. "Then WHAT, sir?" she snapped. "What exactly do you propose I do to this nerd who is stuck in an electronics store, making $12.50 an hour, but who has somehow become the toast of the CIA? How am I supposed to deal with a man whose legend has already grown bigger than that of Roan Montgomery at his BEST?"

Stanfield crossed his arms and glared at General Beckman. "Diane, you have lost perspective," he growled. "This is not Go Fish we're playing here, this is high stakes Hold 'Em. Bartowski needs to go in a hole, where he can still be useful to us, but we also have to crush his legend NOW, before things get any further out of hand."

General Beckman opened her mouth to object, but Stanfield cut her off. "It's for the best, for all of us," he declared. "Chuck Bartowski has to go away."

* * *

**Reagan National Airport, Washington, DC**

"God bless America," John Casey remarked with a grin as he exited the airplane.

Chuck grinned and shook his head. Of course Casey was stoked – they had just flown into his idol's airport.

"It's sort of cute, don't you think?" Chuck jokingly whispered to Sarah. She didn't say anything, but just grinned in response.

Since leaving Los Angeles, Chuck had seemed to be in a much better mood. Sarah had decided that it had to be being away from the Buy More and its pressures – though that was probably all going to change when he had to testify before the House Commerce Committee.

As they exited the secured area, Sarah spotted a woman in a chauffeur's uniform, holding a sign that said "CARMICHAEL PARTY." "I think that's our ride," she said to Chuck and Casey, pointing at the woman.

When they got closer to her, though -

"Good afternoon," General Beckman greeted them, removing the chauffeur's cap. "I apologize for the subterfuge, but there are forces at work right now that I don't trust. We need to move, right now." Beckman turned around and started striding toward the exits.

"What?" Chuck asked, confused, as the three struggled to catch up to General Beckman. "What's going on?"

Without breaking stride, Beckman said, "There's a group at the Pentagon that wants to incorporate the Intersect into Project Omaha, make it strictly military. That would involve putting you in a bunker, Mr. Bartowski -"

That froze Chuck in his tracks. "No," he said, causing General Beckman to stop and turn around. "No, to hell with that," he reiterated, his voice growing angry. "I'm not going into a bunker."

"Well, no kidding," General Beckman replied, sarcasm coloring her voice. "Why do you think I'm going to such secretive lengths, Bartowski? Now COME ON!"

Sarah looked at Chuck, a silent plea in her eyes. "Chuck, I promise, I'll keep you safe," she said quietly. "Everything's alright."

Chuck sighed. "Fine," he finally said, and started walking again.

Beckman led them out of the terminal, to the curb -

"What the hell is this?" Casey asked, incredulity in his voice. "Why do we have the vice-president's limo?"

"We don't," General Beckman replied. "I'm using this to throw off the group from the Pentagon."

"I'm not complaining," Chuck said with a slight smile. "I always sort of wanted to ride in something like this."

Chuck was whistling a slightly different tune a few minutes later. "This is just creepy," he said as they drove down Constitution Avenue. "Why are people cheering and applauding as we drive past?"

"Because they think you're Joe Biden, numbnuts," Casey grunted. "Why else?"

A few minutes later, they pulled up to the Capitol building. "You'll be met inside by the proper persons," General Beckman told them. "Mr. Bartowski – good luck."

* * *

"This hearing is classified TOP SECRET under United States Code Title Six. This morning's hearing concerns a joint operation of the Central Intelligence Agency and the National Security Agency known as the Intersect Project."

Congressman Silvestre Reyes (D-TX-16) looked down at Chuck. "Mr. Bartowski, you have been called to testify before this committee today regarding the aforementioned Intersect Project. Please stand and raise your right hand – very good. Now, please repeat after me. I, Charles Irving Bartowski -"

"I, Charles Irving Bartowski -"

"- do solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth -"

"- do solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth -"

"- so help me God?"

"- so help me God."

"Very good," Congressman Reyes said. "Now, Mr. Bartowski, first things first. We on this committee are highly impressed with the results your team has produced, unorthodox though they may be."

* * *

**The Pentagon**

Leland Stanfield looked with disdain at the closed-circuit television feed from the Capitol. "What the hell does she think she's doing?"

* * *

In the Congressional anteroom where General Beckman waited, her cell phone rang. She looked down at it -

A Pentagon number.

Sighing, she answered it. "Beckman, secure," she said.

"_Diane, I don't know what you think you're doing, but it seems patently unnecessary_," she heard Leland Stanfield say at the other end. "_We know that you switched the committee meetings. We know that Bartowski is testifying right now._"

"I want Bartowski to get a fair hearing before the CIVILIAN authorities before the Pentagon totally takes over everything," Beckman replied. "And I don't know why you're wasting your breath. Even if you silenced the House, too many other sectors of the intelligence community know about this."

What Stanfield said next, though, chilled Beckman to the bone.

"I'm willing to bet," he said, "that if Bartowski disappeared, they'd all forget about him in relatively short order."

And with that, he disconnected, leaving Diane Beckman more disturbed and even frightened than she had been in her entire life.


	5. Good Chance You're Going to Die

_**Chuck Bartowski, Super Spy**_

**Chapter 4: There's a Good Chance You're Going to Die Today**

**CAST (in order of appearance):**  
Lt. Colonel John Casey – Adam Baldwin  
Sarah Walker – Yvonne Strahovski  
Chuck Bartowski – Zachary Levi  
Lt. Colonel Pat Bouton – Don Cheadle  
Agent Michaels – Michael Cera  
Agent Zimmer – Kristen Bell

* * *

**March 28th, 2010  
Fort Meade, Maryland**

The reality was, Chuck Bartowski did not need John Casey present during the Congressional hearing for the Commerce Committee, any more than Casey needed Bartowski present during his quarterly dental exam. Both were painful for the man experiencing them, and the other had no need or desire to be involved.

As a result, Casey had decided that during Bartowski's testimony before the Commerce Committee, he would leave the younger man in Sarah Walker's capable hands, and depart Washington for a little while. "Where are you going to be?" Sarah had wanted to know as he was departing.

"Fort Meade," Casey replied. "Gonna catch up with some of the old folks."

Chuck had laughed at that. "John Casey's getting nostalgic," he teased. "Far too amusing."

Casey had replied with grunt #2, variant c - _Shut your mouth Bartowski_, modified by, _Unless you want to be nostalgic for your teeth_.

And so Chuck had shut up, and Casey had departed for Fort Meade in a borrowed government car. And truthfully, Casey found that he missed driving around the DC area in a crappy lowest-bidder government contract car. As much as he hated to admit that Bartowski was right, he DID have a certain sense of nostalgia for the days when he worked at NSA headquarters.

"Colonel Casey!" the Army SFC at the guard shack onto the base exclaimed when he pulled up. "Long time, no see, sir!"

"Tell me about it," Casey replied, turning over his ID for verification. "Two and a half years now."

"Aw, can't be ALL bad, sir," the sergeant said. "It IS Southern California."

Casey sighed as his ID was returned. "My point exactly."

With the sergeant satisfied that Casey was who he said he was, he was allowed onto the base, where he had to pass through a veritable maze of K-rails before he was back on an open street again. "Obnoxious, but necessary, I guess," Casey grumbled. It would certainly make a charging terrorist think twice.

Upon reaching the parking garage for the special operations department, Casey pulled onto the first level, made two lefts -

And there it was. "MAJOR JOHN CASEY," the sign in front of the parking spot said. "Gotta get them to update that," Casey muttered to himself. Made sense that they hadn't – after all, he hadn't worked at Fort Meade on a regular basis since 2007.

Casey parked and locked the government car, then headed for the elevator that would take him into the facility. One thumbprint and two voice scans later, he exited the elevator on the floor he knew quite well -

"JOHN MOTHEREFFIN' CASEY!" he heard as soon as he stepped off the elevator – and the pronouncement was followed by a thunderous round of applause.

Casey looked for the party responsible for the rather unorthodox announcement, and quickly picked out Major Patrick Bouton – no, it looked like Pat Bouton was ALSO now a Lieutenant Colonel – albeit an Army one, which Casey always looked down on a little bit.

"Ladies and gentlemen, all hail the mighty conqueror of Fulcrum!" Colonel Bouton proclaimed as he crossed the room toward Casey, generating another round of applause from the analysts on the floor. "Much as I hate to say it about a Marine, the man is a testament to the NSA and the United States military!"

"Pat, how ya doin'," Casey greeted his old colleague, smiling as he shook the other man's hand. "Been a while since Beirut, huh?"

"Heh," Bouton chuckled. "Beirut, and Serbia, and Johannesburg... you know."

Casey nodded. "We're gettin' old, Pat," he said, with chagrined humor in his voice.

"Speak for yourself," Bouton shot back. "I plan to live forever, John."

"Well, aren't you special," Casey replied, heading toward his office. "And just how do you plan to accomplish that?"

Bouton grinned as Casey unlocked his office. "By keeping my happy ass right here in this building, John," he said. "And not running around Los Angeles with a CIA skirt."

Casey grunted as he walked into his dusty, long-unused office. "Eh, Walker's a good agent," he replied. "Damn good shot, knows her business."

As he flipped on the lights, he realized that Bouton had not followed him in, but rather, frozen outside his office. "What?" Casey asked, confused. "Was it something I said?"

"Yeah, actually," Bouton said. "Did you say Walker? As in SARAH Walker?"

"Uh, yes, I did," Casey replied. "Why? You know her?"

"You kidding?" Bouton shot back, entering Casey's office and shutting the door behind him. "Walker's a goddamn legend. And if you're working with her, that means -"

Casey's face turned to stone, cutting Bouton's voice off immediately. "Patrick, I don't know what you've heard, but I'm willing to bet it's above your paygrade," Casey growled.

Bouton put his hands up in surrender. "Casey, I've just heard that Sarah Walker's been babysitting the Human Intersect. I don't know any specifics, aside from his name being Carmichael."

"And that is ALL you need to know," Casey replied. "That mission is classified so deep that I'm rather surprised that you've heard **anything** about it."

"What can I say," Bouton answered. "When Fulcrum fell, a lot of information got into hands it shouldn't have been in. We spent the entire summer cleaning up their shit."

"Yeah, well, I can't say I'm sorry to have done that to you," Casey said. "We're better off without Fulcrum."

"Oh, no doubt," Bouton agreed. "They were terrorist scum."

Casey grunted in agreement. "Here's the thing, Casey. I mean, don't you realize you've made it? You're working with one of the most important projects the agency has to offer. You were part of the team that took down Fulcrum. You've really got everything going for you."

Casey frowned. "Yeah, except for the fact that I'm stuck in Los Angeles with a CIA skirt and a numbnuts amateur," he replied.

"See, that's not what I'm hearing," Bouton said. "Scuttlebutt has it that said numbnuts amateur – Carmichael – is actually a remarkably gifted asset, with the potential to be a hell of an agent."

"Well..." Casey sighed. "I guess you're right. It's just that I've known him since he really was a rank, numbnuts amateur who didn't know a Glock from a crock-pot, and that first impression is hard to shake."

Bouton was quiet for a moment, and then he spoke again. "You know, I probably shouldn't do this, but there's something I think you need to hear," he said quietly.

"What?" Casey asked.

"Come out here onto the floor with me," Bouton replied.

A confused look crossed Casey's face, but as his colleague stood and opened the door, curiosity got the best of Casey, and so he stood and followed Bouton out the door. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN," Bouton called. "I need everybody's attention for just a moment."

"Please raise your hand if you have some knowledge of the Human Intersect project," Bouton called. Instantly, the hand of each of the twenty-two analysts in the room went up.

"Well, THAT's comforting," Casey grumbled sarcastically.

Bouton ignored his crack. "Please leave your hand up if you would sacrifice half your paycheck to work on the Human Intersect project."

Each of the twenty-two hands stayed in the air. Casey's eyes widened. "What the hell..."

Bouton grinned, and pointed at an analyst sitting near him who Casey was pretty sure was barely old enough to shave. "Michaels, why do you want to work for the Human Intersect project?"

"Sir, because Sarah Walker is without question one of the best agents in the service of the United States government, sir!" Michaels barked.

"But that's not all, is it, Michaels?"

"No, sir! Agent Carmichael's reputation precedes him, sir! I have studied the Sasha Banacek and Missile Command missions at great length, in addition to the Cole Barker debacle, and without Agent Carmichael's actions in each case, the missions would've ended in disaster, with the likely loss of most if not all of the team."

"What on earth are you tal-" But John Casey cut himself short, as he thought over the missions in his head. Yeah, Bartowski had been the one who designed the entire trap to lure Banacek into custody. Yes, he had reached the kill screen on Missile Command. And yeah, without Bartowski, Cole Barker would've merrily led them all directly to hell.

"Alright, I'll give you those," Casey replied. "But -"

"But, sir, without him, Fulcrum never would've fallen!" another analyst replied, jumping up out of her chair.

"Ah, yes, Agent Zimmer," Pat Bouton said, a twinkle in his eye. "She has a bit of a crush on Agent Carmichael, and she doesn't even know what he looks like."

Zimmer's eyes went wide, and her face turned bright red, but she managed to (mostly) keep her composure. "Sir, was it not Agent Carmichael's plan that allowed the Intersect team to infiltrate Fulcrum headquarters in Studio City, California?"

"Yes, but he also allowed a Fulcrum agent to escape to God knows where."

"Sir, Jill Roberts did not pose a perceivable threat!" Agent Zimmer insisted. "I have analyzed the Fulcrum case from every imaginable angle, and it is my expert opinion that without Agent Carmichael, Fulcrum would still be very much alive and well!"

Casey scoffed. "Your expert opinion, Agent Zimmer?" he scoffed. "You're what, fourteen?"

"Uh, John," Bouton muttered. "Zimmer has a Ph.D in foreign policy from Georgetown."

Casey looked from Bouton to the waifish agent and back, a look of amazement on his face. "You're kidding."

Bouton just shook his head. "My apologies, Agent Zimmer," Casey said. "Far be it from me to question your credentials."

Shaking his head, Casey turned back to Bouton. "Does this all have a point, Pat?" he asked.

"Yeah," Bouton replied. "The point is that you've got a prime assignment. You've got a gig that any agent in the NSA would probably kill to get."

"Oh, that's comforting," Casey said dryly.

"You get the point, though," Bouton said. "The thing is, I really think that it being an interagency operation hampers it. Have we looked at bringing it solely under the auspices of the NSA?"

Casey shrugged. "It was considered after Langston Graham was killed, but the National Security Council chose to keep it as a joint NSA-CIA operation. Fact of the matter is, Walker keeps Carmichael in line, and there's no way she leaves the CIA for the NSA."

Bouton grinned as he headed back into Casey's office. "Have you asked her?"

Casey frowned. "What, if she'd transfer to the NSA? No. There's no way she would."

"Which you don't know until you ask," Bouton shot back as he closed the door once more. "Think about it, Casey. You get Walker to transfer to the NSA, this operation goes solely under the auspices of Fort Meade. It becomes more streamlined, more cost-effective, and you probably get more leeway to do what you want.

"But most of all, John," Bouton said, "think about how it would make you look. Your star with the NSA has been on the rise for a long time. This would just kick it into an even higher gear."

Casey looked at his old friend and colleague for a long minute before finally speaking. "Pat," he finally said, "you have no idea what's at work here. You don't know, those agents out there don't know. The House Select Committee for Intelligence doesn't know – hell, I'm pretty sure Carmichael himself doesn't even fully understand. The Pentagon is trying to take full control of this project. They think that time is being wasted with it being run the way it is right now."

He sighed. "But that's not all. When we took down Fulcrum, one of the agents we captured told us that Fulcrum was just part of a much larger organization called the Ring, about which we know precisely jack."

Bouton looked confused. "I've never heard of the Ring."

"My point exactly," Casey replied. "Y'all here at Fort Meade fantasize about joining the Human Intersect project, but I will tell you right now – it might be one of the most dangerous gigs in the national security business right now."

"Come on, Casey," Bouton said, shaking his head. "It can't be as bad as you're making it out to be."

Casey fell quiet. Bouton really had no idea. "You know, Pat," Casey finally said, "you say you want to live forever? My assignment is definitely not for you. You see..."

Casey paused, considering all the times what he was about to say had almost come true. "You see, every morning, when I wake up, I look in the mirror, and say to myself, 'John, there's a good chance you're going to die today.' That's the reality I face on a daily basis. Do you really think that Agent Michaels or Zimmer has what it takes to face that?"

Bouton didn't say anything, but rather shook his head and looked at the floor. "Yeah, that's kinda what I thought."


End file.
